Serial Arsenist
by The Anonymite
Summary: Axel indulges in a bit of silliness building up to a terrible punchline. Roxas is not amused.


**Disclaimer**: I do not own Kingdom Hearts, or bad puns.

* * *

It was a testament to the complete mundanity, the total absence of amusement in life that Axel sought entertainment so determinedly. Unfortunately, he tended to have the attention span of a goldfish, so his numerous endeavors were usually left lying in a corner of his room, half-finished and forlorn. Unglazed pots, scattered bits of model planes, rumpled books, half-sewn pants, a few poorly drawn still-lifes – the list went on, encompassing everything from macramé to mechanics, guitars with strings snapped, eviscerated watches, pinned and preserved butterflies.

However much his constant failure at occupying himself depressed him, his piles of abandoned projects were of great amusement to Demyx, which, he supposed, kind of made up for it.

"Pick something and stick with it, eh, Ax? You've gone through a bajillion things in the last two years. It's kind of ridiculous."

Axel raised his eyebrows, looking highly skeptical as the blond kicked at a tattered encyclopedia.

"Like you can talk. You've got attention deficit up the wazoo, kid."

"Well, yeah, but I've been playing sitar since I got here, and I've gotten fairly decent at it. At least I've stuck with it."

"Demyx, you can't pay attention to that thing for longer than twenty minutes. I wouldn't call that a success."

"Yeah, but I haven't given up on it!" The blond looked a little indignant at Axel's condescension, which made the redhead cackle, because really, kids with Mohawks shouldn't try to pout.

"You look like an idiot, Dem. Stop trying."

He clapped him on the back and left, the door swinging closed in his wake.

Demyx glared at the door, trying to be irritated, but as boredom set in and Axel didn't return, he dashed from the room.

* * *

Two days later, Roxas showed up, and Axel soon discovered that amusement was even more of a precious commodity when it inspired the newcomer to smile. Unfortunately, there wasn't much that tickled the kid's funny bone, so he was even more at a loss fairly quickly.

* * *

Within a month of the short blond's appearance, the Organization had degenerated to a rather useless clod of black-clad men (and Larxene) moping around because of some shrimpy brunet with a giant Key. Axel couldn't decide whether or not to blame it on Roxas' sullenness, but somehow the lack of humor among his reluctant companions gave him a very, very good idea, so he stopped thinking about it and devoted himself to setting things on fire, as usual.

* * *

Roxas was wandering along, minding his own business when something cracked loudly (and rather painfully) under his foot. He looked down, stared for a moment, and shouted when it registered that yes, that _was_ fire licking at his boot, and yes, it _was_ hot. Hopping backwards on one foot, he swore, glaring at the flames, trying to figure out why the _hell_ there was _fire_ in the middle of the hallway.

He paused upon spying what appeared to be… _corn flakes_?

"What the _fu_-"

"Roxas! Why did you yell?"

Vexen looked unamused, eyebrow arched, the dim hallway accentuating his hollow cheeks, making him look sinister and intimidating.

Roxas was too bemused to be intimidated.

"Someone set a _bowl_ of _cereal_ on _fire_ and _left it in the middle of the hallway_," he said, gesticulating wildly at the shattered pile of porcelain and crunched corn flakes, a few licks of flame lingering on the bigger pieces.

The older blond stared at the floor, mouth hanging open vaguely as he tried to process the stupidity of such an act. His thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of a certain redhead, who promptly slung an arm across Roxas' shoulders and transferred his weight onto him, eyebrows raised at the smoldering mess.

"What happened here?" He sounded amused.

Roxas glared up at him.

"Wouldn't you like to know," he muttered, ducking out from under him and stalking away, kicking a triangle of broken porcelain out of his way as he went.

Axel stumbled, righted himself, and glanced at Vexen.

"Kid doesn't have a lick of humor in him," he stated matter-of-factly, eliciting a dark glare from Vexen before he, too, turned on his heel and glided away in the opposite direction, leaving Axel in the middle of the hallway with nothing but some dying flames for company. He glowered down at them.

"Fat lot of good you are."

* * *

Flaming bowls of cereal became a curious, frequent occurrence in the dark corners of the castle, often stumbled upon by an increasingly irritated Roxas, who had taken to wandering the abandoned corridors in his free time.

"Stupid… corn flakes… following me…" he grunted, bringing his foot down once again on a now thoroughly destroyed bowl, stomping out flames, crunching corn flakes, decimating porcelain. He found the whole thing highly unamusing, and was becoming frustrated by the ubiquitous nature of such an absurd thing. They were rather effective for taking out frustrations upon, though, what with their satisfying shattering noises.

Ten minutes later, he slammed the door to his room, not noticing the snickering redhead lurking around the corner.

* * *

The bowls kept appearing, half-filled with corn flakes, flaming like so many small fireplaces. Most of the Organization members were unimpressed, but Demyx found it hilarious, while Roxas continued to be annoyed. What kind of a person leaves bowls of flaming cereal lying around?

Someone very, very stupid.

* * *

Roxas was at breakfast, minding his own business yet again, trying to wake himself up kindly with warm coffee and a nice bowl of cereal, some eggs, a couple lumps of hash brown. Altogether, he felt quite optimistic about the day, and was about to start eating when he realized that he had forgotten the milk for his cereal, and the orange juice for his throat.

He was only gone for a moment.

Just a moment.

But there it was.

His cereal, on fire, right next to his plate, his mug, and he nearly dropped his spoon in aggravation. He didn't particularly care, but it was frustrating to have to waste a perfectly good bowl of cereal because some doofus had felt the urge to set fire to it.

He flopped into his chair, glaring foully at the flaming mess, disapproving of its merry crackling. He just knew that, had it been in some dark corner of the castle, he would have reduced it to shrapnel by now. As he grumbled, he prodded his eggs with his now-useless spoon, eyes fixed upon the smoldering corn flakes, distracted enough that he didn't notice the approach of "some doofus."

"Must be a serial arsenist," Axel murmured in his ear, and Roxas could hear the grin, Cheshire-like, stretching across his face, though he chose to ignore it as he jumped, hair standing on end from the shock of warm breath fanning across his neck.

His eyes narrowed after a moment, though, and he retained his claim to silence before turning around to whack Axel's head with his spoon.

"Dumbass."


End file.
